


Of Hauntings And Feety-Pajamas

by Heyo_Ash



Category: Big Wolf on Campus
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghost!Merton, M/M, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fic, human!tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heyo_Ash/pseuds/Heyo_Ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT; Imagine person A is a ghost residing in the house Person B just moved into. Person A thinks person B is cute and wants to reveal himself but is afraid to beacause he died in rediculous clothes. Person A gets caught eventually and initially scares person B but they laugh at the get up and it helps them be friend eachother.</p>
<p>or, the one where Tommy thinks his new house is haunted and Merton is a Ghostly clean freak in feety-pajamas.</p>
<p>(Prompt from otpprompts over on tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Hauntings And Feety-Pajamas

 Tommy's pretty sure his new house is haunted. Actually he's _positive_  it's haunted. 

 

 It all started after he'd bought the house and gotten fully settled in. He'd see something out of the corner of his eye, or his keys would magically appear on the key rack, when he _knew_  he'd put them on the counter. He'd set a glass down on the coffee table, once, and fell asleep. When he woke up, there'd been a coaster underneath the glass. 

 

 Of course, all these things had a rational explination. Like; he'd put the glass on a coaster in a hazey, half-sleep. Or he really had put the keys on the rack and he just didn't remember. All of these explinations were plausible. Until he'd noticed, maybe a month after he'd moved, that he never really cleaned. Ever. Still, no dust, no clothes on his bedroom floor, the dishes in the sink were even rinsed off. 

 

 And _that_ was weird. So he came to the conclusion that he was being haunted by 'Casper the Cleanly Ghost.' 

 

 He started cleaning more, though, when the words, 'clean up, damn it,' were found scrawled across his steamy bathroom mirror a couple times.

 

* * *

 

 Merton's pretty sure the new tennant is a messy pig. The guy left his clothes on the floor, flung his keys wherever he felt like it, and he _never_  rinsed his dishes. C'mon, if you don't rinse you're dishes, the food's going to crust onto them and Merton is _not_ scrubing crusty dishes.

 

 

 Actually, Merton's _positive_ Tommy Dawkins is a messy pig. 

 

 Although, beyond the mess, Tommy was cute. Really cute. He was underwear model cute, but all Merton could do was admire from afar… and clean up after him. At least he wasn't bored anymore.

 

 Tommy couldn't see him. Not because he _couldn't,_  it was just, Merton didn't _want_ Tommy to see him. Apparantly when you become a ghost, you're stuck looking like you did before you died, and his clothes were pretty embarassing. Like; 'if I wasn't already dead, I'd die if someone saw me,' embarassing. 

 

 Merton wasn't about to let Tommy see him in black, feety-pajamas that were covered, head to toe, in little cartoon skull-and-crossbones.

 

 Avoiding Tommy only worked for so long though, because the big, lumbering, _oaf_  left his car keys on the kitchen counter one morning. Which would have been okay, if Merton hadn't started washing dishes when Tommy strolled back through the kitchen door.

 

* * *

 

 

 Tommy had finished breakfast and, after rinsing off his plate, headed off to his car. He checked the pockets of his jacket for his keys, sighing when he remembered he left them on the kitchen counter, 'Damn.' He hissed.

 

 He opened the door and froze when he'd heard the sink running. He'd thought he shut that off. 

 

 Tommy peeked his head around the wall of cupboards. Standing at his sink was a person, a man. 'The ghost,' he thought. It took a few seconds for that thought to really sink in, when it did, his scream started as a small hum in the back of his throat and progressed to a shrill shriek. 

 

 The ghost, caught by surprise, let out a yelp and flailed, turning to face Tommy. The wet plate in his hand slipped and flew across the small kitchen and broke into pieces when it hit the floor.

 

 An uncomfortable silence settled over the two as they stared at each other, frozen to the spot. The ghost was the first to break the silence,

 

 "Hi Tommy, uh, I thought you left." 

 

 "Forgot my keys." He said, eyes trained on the dark-haired man in front of him, who happened to be wearing… feety-pajamas? 

 

 "Oh," 

 

 "You're the ghost." Tommy stated after a minute. 

 

 "Yup, and you're the guy who never cleans."

 

 This was too weird, there was a ghost in feety-pajamas haunting him, talking to him, chastising him on his cleanly-ness. He decided he was going to call in sick and take the day off. 

 

 Tommy kicked off his shoes and shuffled into the living room, grabbing the phone off the hook as he plopped down on the, dark-blue, couch. He dialed his boss and made up a half-assed excuse he hardly remembered. "I need a frigging beer," Tommy sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

 

 When he looked up, Casper the Cleanly Ghost was there, holding a cold beer. Tommy hissed out a, 'Thanks,' and popped the tab, Mr. Ghost took a seat in the matching, dark-blue, recliner to the left of him.

 

 They sat quietly, Tommy nursing his beer, the ghost looking antsy and uncomfortable. Both trying to figure out what to say. 

 

 "So," Tommy trailed. 

 

 "So," 

 

 "You know my name, what's yours?" Tommy took another sip of his beer and rested against the arm of the couch.

 

 "Merton, Merton Dingle." The ghost, Merton, replied.

 

 "Marten?"

 

 "No, Merton. M-E-R-T-O-N." He grumbled and crossed his arms.

 

 "Oh, sorry. What's with the pajamas?" Tommy asked, setting his beer down on a coaster.

 

***

 

 Of course Tommy would ask about the feety- pajamas. "You're just going to laugh." He whined, focusing on the condensation running down Tommy's beer. It was bad enough he'd been discovered, now he was supposed to spill his life, er, death story to Underwear Model Tommy? No. Nope. Not happening.

 

 "C'mon, Merton. Just tell me." 

 

 "Fine. I died in them. I sleepwalked into the middle of the road and got hit by a car and now I'm stuck in the stupid thing. Happy now?" Okay, so it happened.

 

 Tommy tried not to laugh, Merton could tell, but he did and it wasn't just a chuckle either. Tommy was in hysterics, clutching his sides and snorting.

 

 "I'm sorry, it's just, this is so fucked up." He gasped between words, "I mean, I live with a ghost who cleans my house and is stuck wearing cute little feety-pajamas for the rest of his afterlife." 

 

 Merton was almost mad at Tommy until he'd realized all of what the living man had said. "Wait, you think my feety-pajamas are cute?" When Tommy calmed down enough to nod, Merton smiled, and laughed with him. 

 

 It was surprisingly easy talking to Tommy, after the initial, 'you're a ghost,' shock. They spent all day talking about Tommy's highschool days, his brief stint as Captain of the football team in senior year and Lori, Tommy's bestfriend and ex-highschool sweetheart, who Merton was going to meet eventually. 

 

 Even though Tommy was a messy pig, Merton was going to enjoy being roommates. He wondered if Tommy would let him have the guest bedroom, Merton didn't _need_ it, but it'd be nice if he could re-create his old Lair.

 

***

 

 Merton was surprisingly easy to talk to, for a dead guy. They had talked all day, getting to know each other. Merton told him about his life before he died; he was Goth, loved the occult, and he was president of the Gothic Fantasy Guild in highschool, whatever that was.

 

 Surprisingly, Tommy found they had a number of things in common. Like; Monster Movies, they both had an intense love for the supernatural, and they both had horrible luck with women. Apparently, a number of Merton's brief relationships had ended with his girlfriends trying to kill him. 

 

 Even though Merton was dead, Tommy was looking forward to living with him. He wondered if Merton would want the guest bedroom. He knew Merton didn't _need_ a bedroom, but he'd ask anyway.

 

  

 


End file.
